I sent my Russian teacher story in a text message to my husband. His response was “?”
I have no idea ? what.
? how are you bearing up?
? why is she so clueless?
? does she have a husband?
Once he was taking Klara to the emergency room, and I was texting him furiously. “How is she? Are you there yet? What are the doctors saying? Is she in pain?”
His response was “fine.” What exactly was fine in the experience was never clarified.
I know, I only told him the stories about her 5,000 times or so. But since the teacher’s name is the same as mine, he probably thought I’m now into talking about myself in the third person.
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” now into talking about myself in the third person”
Maybe he thought it was a phase you’re going through….
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I hope she was okay!
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A little piece of gravel got into her ear on the playground. But it fell out on the way to the emergency room, so they went to the park instead. None of which I knew until they came back home.
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Exactly. But I’m the mother!! I need minute, excruciating details about everything that happens to her.
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A conservative literary critic and college professor
Clarissa's Blog 
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